Heart Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm #3) Page 7

  He supposed he could have waited on this mission until tonight when the cover of darkness would aid him, but it was the full moon and time wasn't an ally – every second counted.

  Five minutes later, he stood at the side of the well he'd been looking for. The thing was almost two thousand years old and ran … god knew how deep. His main concern was that it was stable 'cause he was taking a trip south.

  “Amazingly well preserved, isn't it?” enthused a female voice with an American accent. “The well is usually fenced off, but they had to take the fencing down for restructuring, so we're actually able to go near it right now – we're lucky.”

  Amil looked up to find a young, blonde woman standing opposite him admiring the stone work, and also admiring him when she thought he wasn't looking. He didn't have to look – he could smell her interest, and his own body responded to that very fact, the blunt call of mating impossible to ignore, today of all days.

  But, just maybe, this could work in his favour.

  He tampered down the primal urge to pin her to the ground and fuck his seed into her, and ran a tongue along the edges of his teeth to make sure nothing was pointy in all the wrong ways. “Indeed we are. Are you an archaeology student?” She looked like one right down to her white socks in chunky sandals that peaked out from beneath the tied hems of her khaki-coloured trousers.

  “Yep. I'm on an internship from Princeton. I'm Emily.” She held out her hand to him in greeting and he took it, shaking it slowly but firmly, letting his fang-free smile take over his face as he did so.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Emily. I'm Amil.”

  A faint pink colour blushed her lightly tanned cheeks when he said her name. Excellent.

  “Hi,” she replied.

  He couldn't quite tell whether she was being shy or coy. Either way, he had to admit, with some chagrin, he liked it. “You're here by yourself?”

  “I was with a group, but we had different projects and most of the others left last week. I go home next Wednesday. You're…” she hesitated, “not an archaeology student, are you?” And this time, she didn't hide the way her eyes travelled up and down his body. They held just as much curiosity as attraction.

  “Er .. no.”

  “So, you're here for sight-seeing?” She looked dubious. Probably because he was travelling light with no visible cameras. “Are you from England?”

  “Yes, to 'from England', and 'sort of' as far as the sightseeing goes.”

  Her eyebrows rose suddenly, and she lowered her voice in what he knew was a joke, although there was a lilt to her tone that suggested she'd like her imaginings to be true. “Are you a spy? Like … James Bond, or something?”

  He laughed. “What if I said, yes?”

  “Would you have to kill me?”

  “I don't know – could you offer me something in exchange for your life.”

  Her smile faltered just a touch, and she shivered at his words despite the heat of the sun. Shit. Tridents were really fucking bad at teasing. “That was a joke, just in case you're suddenly picturing one of the death scenes from James Bond.”

  And now she laughed, most traces of nervousness gone. “I know,” she replied, even though he could tell she wasn't sure. But intrigue, and perhaps the need for some excitement, kept her there in front of him.

  He whipped his sunglasses off so she could see his eyes, and coughed to clear his throat, softening his tone; making sure no hint of darkness weighted his words, genetically modified mongrel that he was… “I could do with a little help though.”

  “Spies need help?”

  “Always. It's a shame we can't see the extent of the well's structure. I'd love to get right down to the bottom.”

  She let out a low whistle, which looked damn cute on her in a tom-boyish sort of way.

  He pushed away the vision of slamming his tongue between those pursed lips as some other part of him slammed her elsewhere. Sarah … think of Sarah…

  “The water's polluted, or so I'm told. So, even if you don't drown, you'd still likely get ill, and that would make bad publicity for tourism – don't think the guards would take too kindly to it.”

  “Which is why I need to make sure they're looking the other way when I go down there.”

  “When you go—” She gaped at him, than let out an apprehensive giggle. “No way … you're going down there? You have ropes in that bag of yours? Scuba gear?”

  “Don't need ropes.” He nodded to the grooves that ran all the way down the side of the stone bricks. “Foot holes. And I can hold my breath for a good two minutes.”

  Now she was looking at him like he was crazy.

  “And when I see you again, I'll bring you back whatever debris I can find at the bottom for you to study.”

  That certainly caught her interest, and he thought it was because of the promise of millennia old sediment until she smiled at him – and this time, it was definitely coy – while rocking back and forth on her feet. “When you see me again?”

  He grinned at her. “I'm in the area tonight – are you?”

  She nodded.

  “How about I meet you back here at the east entrance, say … seven o'clock? We can sample the local cuisine. But what I need you to do first, is occupy those two policemen, right there. Thirty seconds is all I need to slip out of sight.”

  “You know, they say the Virgin Mary has appeared to travellers in this well.”

  He halted at her change of direction. “Is that so?”

  “It is. According to myth, the Holy Family stopped here on their way through Egypt. Some say that Jesus himself built this well.”

  “That's interesting. Do you have a point?”

  “Not really,” she shrugged. “It just kinda makes me think, since it's sacred and all, that you should have a pure heart or something if you go down there … you know – kinda like how Percival could find the Holy Grail 'cause he was innocent, or how Galahad should have been the one to protect Guinevere and not Lancelot, because of his … you know … purity.”

  “Purity.” Oh, fate, how you like to mock me. “You really are the archaeology student,” he smiled. “I'll take my chances.”

  “Okay… So, I distract the police, you go down the well, and then what?”

  “And then you go your own way and pretend we never spoke.”

  “Until tonight?” Her question tilted at the end with hope.

  “Right. Until tonight.” He made his way around the well until he came up beside her.

  Emily turned to face him and her breath snagged at whatever she saw. Hopefully it was a good snagging, and not because his eyes were glowing.

  He brushed his fingers against hers, then took her left hand in his right. “It feels so bloody good to meet someone else with a daring soul.”

  Maybe she did have a daring soul. Or maybe she was lonely out here all by herself now her friends had gone home, but her smile grew wide and she laced her fingers through his. “Give me three minutes, then do whatever it is you're going to do.”

  “Atta girl,” he whispered, bringing her into his chest for the briefest of moments.

  Her eyes lit at his words – pride.

  If there was one thing he liked about living this supernatural existence, it was the ability to connect with others in way no human would ever understand. One look, one touch – one tiny, seemingly insignificant response – held a thousand messages that could link you with someone in a very deep way. This was one of those moments. It happened between humans all the time, even strangers – especially strangers – but humans were not perceptive enough to comprehend the exchange. If he were on another path, he'd be thanking the stars, because this woman who willingly walked into his arms on the day of the full moon, was an ideal mate for a Trident. If Sarah were not in the picture, it seemed he'd be in with a chance to win his longevity with Emily, even if it were through a genetically forced mating the way that most Tridents did it nowadays since the creation of their mating formula.

  But the th
ought of fate working for him in this way made him feel uneasy for once. What did the Gods want of him? Which side were they on? Did they want him to remain a Trident, or would they grant him a last chance at humanity?

  He should kiss her now – entice her, claim her as his along with his guaranteed survival, and turn his back on everything he had come here for. Shit, she was willing. It wouldn't even need to hurt for her … much.

  But everything he had come here for filled his heart with every beat, every beat reminding him of the silent promise he had made to his one true mate, even if that meant his death.

  So, instead, he watched Emily walk away from him, and sent her a mental apology that he would not be here to meet her at seven o'clock.

  She walked a large, semi-circle around the two guards who were immersed in their conversation and only looking up occasionally, until she was at least a hundred meters away and he could no longer make out the white of her socks. She knelt down, then stood up, and he wasn't sure what she was doing – rubbing some dirt into her? And then it looked like she tore at her blouse. Her diversion was loud, chaotic, to the point and definitely belonged to a daring soul.

  He smiled. Yes, he was proud of this female he'd known for all of five minutes; five minutes solidifying this moment in all of eternity and allowing him a last chance at freedom. There were no accidents in life.

  Her high-pitched scream filled the air as she hurtled towards the policemen, babbling in broken Egyptian, of which he could understand only a little since he had not spoken his mother tongue for going on twenty-five years.

  “Help me! Help – he took my money. He took it!”

  The police broke into a run towards her as she pointed to the opposite side of the ruins where her 'mugger' had run off to. He wasted no more time. Reaching into the side pocket of his rucksack, he pulled out a lapis lazuli ankh on a long chain and secured it around his neck. Then, he hauled himself over the side of the well, settled his feet into the foot holes, hoping they wouldn't crumble away, and started his descent into the darkness beneath. Somewhere under the murky water, the womb of the well held a secret: a door. The ankh was the key. What lay beyond the door was the answer to his prayer.

  Chapter Five

  Selena walked in through her door just as Stephen walked out, the both of them hurtling into each other with Taylor just a few steps behind.

  “Hey!” she cried, trying to steady herself.

  “Sorry.”

  She stopped dead, taking in his attire and the huge, filled-to-the-brim, hiking backpack he carried. “What—”

  “I'm done.” Anger simmered off him. “I'm outta here.”

  “What do you—”

  “I'm gone. To hell with this shithole of a pack. It's a fucking joke.”

  “You're going rogue?” she gasped, in shock. Those tears that she'd forced up to the surface for Taylor just a few minutes ago, came up without any encouragement now. “Did they throw you out?”

  “No. I'm leaving – my choice.” He sighed, seemed to calm down for a second and then ran a hand through his hair as he looked back up at her in regret, one wary eye on Taylor behind her. “I'm sorry I hurt you … about what I did. Shit. Selena, I didn't mean to hurt you. I need to get out of here.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  He shrugged. “I'll figure it out.”

  She hesitated, the core of her pulled in two directions. “I could … maybe I could—”

  “I wouldn't let you come with me, even if I thought you wanted to. You're a pack girl – always have been.”

  Without warning, he dropped his bag and took her into his arms for a hug.

  She saw Taylor stiffen behind her, preparing to attack if he tried anything. The reality of it crashed down on her and she crumpled in his arms, crying. “You can't go. You've always been there.”

  He tickled the back of her neck with his fingers in affection, the way he always had since they were kids, then dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “You'll be okay, little pup,” he murmured into her hair.

  She tightened her arms around him, unwilling to let him go. “No … who's going to look after me now? What if you get hurt out there on your own – who's going to look after you?” And it was no exaggeration. Growing up with a distant father and no mother, they had parented each other in so many ways … and rogue wolves didn't fair well, most of them not surviving for more than a couple of years.

  Her heart cracked.

  It was happening – really happening: their pack was falling apart and it was starting with her family.

  “I'll be okay; I've always been okay. And the last time I checked, you didn't need anyone looking out for you, Selena – I damn well know you know how to make your way. Hey…” he tilted her head up so she met his eyes, red-rimmed with unshed tears and exhaustion, and the remnants of fury, “I don't like the way things are done here, and I won't stay and be the underdog with no chance of running for Alpha – there's nothing for me here anymore.”

  “I'm here.”

  “And if I knew there was no chance of me hurting you like earlier, you're the one thing I'd stay for – me and you, our family of two,” he smiled, slightly, before the smile vanished. “But the fact is, I don't know that I won't hurt you again. The moon—”

  “Exactly! The full moon's tonight – you can't go rogue now, it'll kill you. It'll—”

  “I've got more chance of finding a female as a rogue, without her knowing what pack I'm from – that's how bad things are.” He ended their embrace, having to prise her hands apart and off him.

  Her sobbing filled the silence.

  He landed a last kiss on her head, his voice choked with emotion. “Take care, little sis.” He squeezed her hand once, and then empty air surrounded her.

  The roar of his motorbike coming to life lifted her head, and without looking back, he took through the woods on the path that led him out of Lawrence's land and away from the pack.

  “No!” All her hurt poured into that single, screamed word, not that it did any good. And then it was Taylor's arms she was in once more as he tried to comfort her.

  Lydia's scent invaded her senses like poison.

  This was her fault. Her fault. She came and changed everything! Tore everything apart…

  Fine – she had an outlet for her pain.

  Rage simmered in her veins, the perfect anecdote to poison. Put the blame where it belongs…

  Karma was going to be sweet.

  ~*~

  Taylor sat at Richard's breakfast table while the old wolf paced his kitchen. Ryan sat next to him, unmoving.

  The silence was deafening.

  The oldest member of the pack – one who had lost his mate going on twenty-five years ago – had now also lost his only son.

  Selena had raced straight into her bedroom on entering the house, still crying, refusing to even look at her father, and Taylor pushed away the uneasiness he felt. He was needed here, and he'd done his best to try and calm Selena down, but fuck it, he just wanted to be wrapped up in Lydia after their bonding last night, and his own needs were almost unbearable now he'd let the leash off his wolf.

  He also didn't feel all that okay about being physically so close to Selena, and he knew that was the wolf part of him protesting, so he tried to reason with the animal. In the human world, when someone was hurting, you hugged them, you consoled them – it was the done thing; it didn't mean anything other than that. In the wolf world, where the five senses and biology ruled, it seemed that even being near another female around this time of the month, when already mated with another, was bordering on adultery. At least, that's what it felt like to the animal inside him, and he'd really had enough of feeling like he was a philanderer – both as a human and a wolf – when he hadn't once cheated on anyone. Finally, he was letting those feelings of guilt where Sarah was concerned lay to rest. It wasn't his fault and it wasn't hers, and it sure as hell wasn't Lydia's, so he didn't now need to feel like he was betraying Lydia by simply giv
ing Selena a hug, thank you very much. The blurry lines of man and wolf were giving him a headache, but he wasn't detached from compassion, god damn it. How could he do nothing when a woman stood in front of him in tears?

  He sneaked a glance at Ryan, who had his eye on Richard. He wondered if he felt the same debilitating need to be with Lydia, or the same sense of discomfort around Selena – it's not like he and Selena hadn't shared each others' bodies in previous months before Lydia had been around. At least Taylor had always refused to give in to Selena's constant come-ons, and for the first time ever, he felt as if he'd done the right thing in that regard, because he wasn't wolf enough to just block that kind of relationship out as if sex was just necessity and nothing more … sex was a relationship. For him, at least.

  “I could go after him,” voiced Ryan. “He was angry; your fight was fresh. If I get him on his own, maybe—”

  “No.” Richard stopped pacing and sighed, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. “It's done. He made his choice.”

  “He might not be the last to go,” Taylor piped up, and Ryan's eyes bore into him. “It's not a criticism; I'm just saying… There's talk about Lydia and the pack as a whole. The pack is uncomfortable and also starved of females, and they're saying no other female will touch us now, in case they're associated with 'the storm-wielder'.”

  Ryan growled threateningly at that.

  Taylor held up his hands. “Not my words – it's what others are saying. Allegedly.”

  “Stephen stated as much before he left,” affirmed Richard. “Shouted it, more like.”

  “The pack's strong; it just needs a re-education,” snapped Ryan.

  “And will we be giving that with our fists, or other?”

  Both of the older wolves stared him down.

  Taylor refused to flinch. “You can glare at me all you want, diplomacy is the way to go here. And structure. We can't fly off the handle at every single thing that happens, because they will be flying off the handle tonight. We need to give them a structure at the meeting so they know we've thought about all our options and have come up with a solution; so that they can see we're strong.” He sat back and waited for the quip from Ryan that would put him in his place for being so candid against an Alpha, and in front of a member of his pack, too. He'd gotten used to being barked down over the past nine months, but refused to shut up if he saw something was just plain right. Last month, everything had been murky for him. Now, things were very clear.